Sarah Brightman

The intention of this album, quite clearly, is to bring the former Mrs Andrew Lloyd-Webber back into what could tenuously be considered the “mainstream”. La Luna has major label backing (the mighty Warner Brothers’ European division East West), and a shrewdly selected collection of material that mixes the modern (emerging artist Dido‘s Here With Me), the vintage (Procul Harum‘s 1969 No.1 A Whiter Shade Of Pale, Simon & Garfunkel‘s delicately exquisite Scarborough Fair) with a clutch of familiar standards.

Just for good measure, and to showcase Brightman’s most recognisable talents as an accomplished chanteuse of Stage productions (including The Phantom Of the Opera, not to mention several albums) during her 20-year career, a smattering of classically-oriented pieces are included among the 15 tracks – the 16th is a *hidden* song, which begins only a few seconds after the 15th ends, and is not designated its own chapter on the disc.

They are easily spotted by their titles… anything vaguely exotic-sounding will invariably consist of some frenzied warbling and richly textured orchestration. Some of them incorporate what can be described as Enya-isms, with their soothing synthetic sheen of keyboards and pattering drum-machines.

The likes of Moon River, Gloomy Sunday and He Doesn’t See Me are similarly bathed in studio gloss, but an even tone is maintained throughout the album despite the diverging source of its contents. Easy-listening perhaps, but there’s no denying how well-produced it all is.

The highlights of La Luna (the album), though, are the trio of 90s tunes. Winter In July, the seminal 1991 Top 10 hit by Bomb The Bass, is respectfully reproduced to a close approximation of the original. Pointless? Maybe, but as part of this project, it works. Likewise her rendition of Here With Me, a song now on the threshold of huge success for its writer and original performer Dido. While it couldn’t possibly match that version, it does add a blissful escalating coda to the track.